I Shall Have Peace
by SavageNymph
Summary: A four-part story in tribute to the Marauders and how they changed. A small girl reads James and Lily's headstones, blind to their story. Sirius watches Remus through the haze of the Forbidden Forest. Peter wonders what his friends would think of him now. Remus discovers he is the last Marauder. Different time periods. LilyxJames RemusxSirius
1. James and Lily Potter

**A/N:**

**Just a few things about this fanfic, disclaimers and tidbits: **

**-The title is taken from Sara Teasdale's suicide note, or poem depending on how you look at it. **

**-I base any Marauder fanfiction I write heavily on the influence of dorkorific and ladyjaidas' fanfic "The Shoebox Project". Basically, I write the Marauders with the idea that I'm just continuing their personalities and stories from Shoebox. So, if you like this story please go give that one a read because it really is always my inspiration. (**** /****) **

**-As always, I don't own any of these characters or the HP world or anything. **

**Hope you enjoy! **

Part One

James and Lily Potter

_O you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns?_

_I have been changed to a hound with one red ear;_

_I have been in the Path of Stones and the Wood of Thorns,_

_For somebody hid hatred and hope and desire and fear_

_Under my feet that they follow you night and day._

_A man with a hazel wand came without sound;_

_He changed me suddenly; I was looking another way;_

_And now my calling is but the calling of a hound;_

_And Time and Birth and Change are hurrying by._

_I would that the Boar without bristles had come from the West_

_And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky_

_And lay in the darkness, grunting, and turning to his rest._

_-William Butler Yeats "HE MOURNS FOR THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND HIS BELOVED, AND LONGS FOR THE END OF THE WORLD" _

"Don't go too far, Amelia."

"I won't!" The little girls turns to wave at her grandmother before skipping deeper into the cemetery.

The sun is shining brightly over Godric's Hallow as the old grandmother moves slowly through the small cemetery, brushing off her husband and elder brother's tombstone and laying flowers. She stands, joints popping, and scans the small graveyard for her granddaughter. The small girl has skipped off; off to wander through a place she is too innocent to understand the sadness of.

The grandmother smiles softly before laying out a blanket beneath a tall maple tree and sighing happily as she leans against the trunk and lets her eyelids flicker closed.

The small girl, Amelia, wanders aimlessly through the headstones. She pauses every so often to trace the engraved letters and practice reading the names. Her reading is improving, slowly, but she still gets stuck on some of the harder words, the longer names.

"Gi…de…on." The girl sounds out each letter as she traces the cool stone. "Pe…Per…Pervic…Percival."

She does not know that each word she reads is the name of someone who has died, that her bare feet rest in the cool grass that grows richly above coffins and below that, bones.

She reaches a large headstone and begins to trace the name.

"J…Ja…" She huffs, frustrated. J's are hard for her. "Ja…Jame…James. Po…Pott…Potter."

James Potter. A name, a successfully read word to her and nothing else. Hash marks in stone, a marking as primitive to this child as the scratch a stick may make in mud.

She does not see flashing hazel eyes and perpetual glasses and thick, untidy black hair always on end. She does not see and will never see a boy, a teenager, a man, a father who laughed and joked and grinned with mischief. She cannot know the certain angle of a hand ran through hair, of that same hand closing around a golden snitch _again and again and again. _She will never comprehend the goodness, the bravery, the warmth, the love, the hate, the easy arms around the shoulders of true friends.

To her, James Potter is a series of rough-hewn hewn letters that march across a tombstone. She moves on without thought, without a second glance.

"Li…Lily. Po…Oh, Potter. Lily Potter." Amelia smiles at her cleverness. her ability to find the meaning in the assortment of letters on the stone.

Lily Potter. It makes her think of a flowerpot and, for a moment, Amelia laughs at the image.

She will never see vibrantly red hair curling around a slim neck and flashing, emerald green eyes and scattered freckles. She does not see a girl, a teenager, a woman, a mother who was quick to anger and quicker to love and whose smile was both wicked and lovely. She will never know of boy with black eyes who loved so dearly, a small boy with emerald green eyes who would never know. She cannot comprehend a wand dangling easily between loose fingers and a fond reprimand poised on smiling lips.

Amelia sees the names as linked only in the word "Potter", making it easier for her to read a second time. Nothing more.

She does not see Lily and James. She cannot see a love deeper and stronger than imaginable. She cannot see the desperation in hazel eyes as he was time and time again thwarted. Cannot see the softening in green eyes as she begins to slowly warm up. Cannot see hands clasped, lips pressed together, bodies made to fit perfectly. Does not see a wedding, a child, or the violent flash-of-green-light ending.

"Amelia! Let's go, child, I'm ready for lunch." The grandmother waves at the child, gesturing at the cemetery gate.

"Coming!" Amelia skips back to her grandmother, never sparing a glance backward.

She is a child, innocent and naïve. She does not know.

And where there was once laughter and warmth, there is now only cool stone, and so there is no one to tell her.

A peace descends on the cemetery as the child and her grandmother leave. An autumn wind moves through the grasses, scattering ruby red leaves against the headstones.


	2. Sirius Black

Part Two

Sirius Black

"_If you want to know who your friends are, _

_get yourself a jail sentence." _

_-Charles Bukowski _

"_I am moved by fancies that are curled_

_Around these images and cling:_

_The notion of some infinitely gentle _

_Infinitely suffering thing." _

_-T.S Eliot "Preludes" _

Sirius knows that shifting into his human form is probably one of the stupidest things he's ever done, especially because he's on Hogwarts grounds. But he does not want to do what he is about to do with the mind of a dog.

"If I get caught, there will be no punishment too good for me." He whispers to himself hoarsely as he peers out from behind the tree he is hiding behind. He's on the fringe of the Forbidden Forest, and it's only a few trees and some deep underbrush between him and the grounds of his old school, his first home.

The castle reminds him, deeply and reflexively, of parchment beneath his wrists and the joy of being a dog in a pack in the moonlight. Of James's laugh, of Remus's quiet smile, of Moony Wormtail Padfoot and Prongs. Of things both hated and loved. And, perhaps more intrinsically than anything else, of stolen kisses _again and again and again, _a crooked smile and three long scars lovingly traced over, a best friend who was more than that, a waterfall of letters and the clap of hands and secretive shared grins.

Sirius had once though that Remus Lupin had betrayed him, betrayed them all, and to what end he could never figure out. Remus, his Remus, had never ever seemed like the person who would betray his friends to Voldemort. It had hurt Sirius almost as deeply as losing James had, and that hurt was endless and raw.

But Sirius knew better now. He had escaped Azkaban to kill the one truly responsible for his world ending, and that was Peter Pettigrew. Wormtail. As dead to Sirius as if he had truly been murdered twelve years ago.

_Think of him later, _Sirius admonished himself, _you are not here to hate Peter Pettigrew at the moment. _

The reason he was here strolled into sight at exactly that moment. Sirius stood up straighter, heart beginning to pound loudly in his ears.

Remus Lupin had grown thinner in the twelve years they'd been apart. His light brown hair still fell over his forehead in gently curling tendrils, though now it was shot through with premature grey. He could have even been wearing his school robes with how tattered and patched they were. A part of Sirius was crushed, almost, by Remus's appearance—where he had barely changed, Sirius was absolutely unrecognizable. Azkaban had twisted and marred him until he was only a shadow of his old self, visible only in the flash of his grey eyes or the twist of his smile into a bitter grin.

"Moony…" Sirius exhaled, a thousand memories and a thousand emotions the Dementors had so long kept at bay rushed through him. "You wouldn't even know me now."

He wishes that he could just run, run to Remus and throw his arms around him and inhale deeply to smell Remus's scent of old books and soap and know that he is truly home. But he can't. For as surely as Sirius once thought Remus a traitor, Remus must think that of Sirius now.

Remus walks slowly across the castle grounds, a leisurely stroll Sirius knows he takes daily. Crookshanks provided him with the information, bless that cat, but Sirius only scraped up the courage to actually come today.

But, no, no, no Remus is already walking out of sight. His Moony is almost gone, walking back into a place where Sirius cannot go.

_Don't leave me. _

Without thinking, Sirius lifts his head and lets out an animal howl that is partly the beast within him and partly the pain of a man who has lost everything.

Remus freezes, as Sirius knew he would. He turns to the forest and, almost absentmindedly, lifts one pale hand to touch his mouth as if he is unsure if the sound came from his own lips or not. Sirius grins.

Remus and Sirius stare at each other, though only Sirius knows this. Their eyes meet, light brown and grey, across gently waving grass and a darkening sky and through trees and roots and shadow.

Sirius lifts his head and howls again, this time a goodbye, the unspoken _I love you_. Then, before Remus can truly grow suspicious, he falls to four legs and bounds deeper into the forest as a dog, Padfoot once again.

**A/N**

**This is set sometime during the third book. I'd also like to point out that the chapters are in order of death (So it goes James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus).**

**Anyway thanks for reading! Reviews get Padfoot kisses! **


	3. Peter Pettigrew

Part Three

Peter Pettigrew

"_I recognize in thieves, traitors and murderers, _

_in the ruthless and the cunning, _

_a deep beauty - a sunken beauty."_

_Jean Genet _

Sometimes, under his breath, Wormtail will call Snape "Snivellus", so quiet he knows the man cannot hear. When Snape tells him to clean something or fetch him drinks, Wormtail will do as told with the quietest "Yes, _Snivellus_" under his breath. It is a small, passive rebellion, which is the only kind that Wormtail knows, is ever brave enough to do.

He moves through Snape's house, quiet and bitter. He stomps up to his small room and closes the door. He surveys his small bed and small bedside table that has nothing on it. Wormtail has no possessions of his own.

Wormtail was once a boy with thick blond hair and wide blue eyes. Wormtail was once a boy with three best friends who kept him around and even liked him because he laughed at their jokes and was sometimes even funny himself and would do anything they did, even if it was stupid and he was tired. Wormtail once had a mum and a dad who were also quiet but they loved him.

Now Wormtail has nothing.

"Wormtail! Get down here!" Snape calls.

"Be there in a second, Snivellus." Wormtail mutters.

Wormtail knows, like he knows his birthday or his favorite food or that snow is cold, that he betrayed his friends. He knows they hate them. Even if it's only Remus and him left now, he knows they all hate him.

Sometimes he misses them, in those quick dark moments between asleep and waking up. Most of the time he's just afraid of them, and in the quietest of times he feels something in his chest that is rotting and consuming and dark and if he were to look at it he knows it would be guilt but he can't bear to ever feel it.

You can say many things about Wormtail. But you cannot say that he did not love his friends; he did. His love was just not as strong as his bitterness and his bravery was eclipsed by his crushing fear, _again and again and again. _

Wormtail slowly walks down to steps that lead to his room to meet Snape at the landing. Snape looks at him with disgust, always, and Wormtail wants to laugh at him and point his finger and say the things about his nose that Sirius used to say, the taunts that James would yell through his laughter. He knows nothing would make Snape angrier.

Wormtail wonders if, perhaps, his friends would have considered him living with Snape as the gravest insult of all.

But he does not know; all his friends are gone. They died along with Peter Pettigrew.

**A/N**

**Writing this, I was like, Wow I really want to hate Peter but in the end I just pity him so much.**

**And, okay, I still kind of hate him.**

**Again, The Shoebox Project is my inspiration for these characters! Please give it a read! **


	4. Remus Lupin

Part Four

Remus Lupin

_From childhood's hour I have not been_

_As others were; I have not seen _

_As others saw; I could not bring _

_My passions from a common spring. _

_From the same source I have not taken_

_My sorrow; I could not awaken_

_My heart to joy at the same tone; _

_And all I loved, I loved alone. _

_Then- in my childhood, in the dawn _

_Of a most stormy life- was drawn _

_From every depth of good and ill _

_The mystery which binds me still: _

_From the torrent, or the fountain,_

_From the red cliff of the mountain, _

_From the sun that round me rolled_

_In its autumn tint of gold, _

_From the lightning in the sky_

_As it passed me flying by,_

_From the thunder and the storm, _

_And the cloud that took the form_

_(When the rest of Heaven was blue) _

_Of a demon in my view._

_-Edgar Allan Poe "Alone" _

Remus puts down his quill and sighs, burying his head in his hands. He's tired but, he's always tired so there's no surprise there.

_"You need to relax a bit, Moony." Sirius combs his thin fingers through Remus's hair. "You're going grey at thirty, old chap." _

Remus forces the memory away with a frown. He cannot live in this house with Nymphadora, with his unborn son, and still remember such things.

A gentle knock echoes from his door and he turns to see Dora standing in the threshold, grave expression contrasting with her vibrant pink hair. He motions her into his study and her large, pregnant belly leads the way.

"Is everything alright?" He asks softly, standing up to brush her hair off her forehead.

He loves her. But not the way he loved Sirius. Not even the way he continues to love Sirius, in the darkest and most desperate corners of his mind.

"It's Harry." She replies and Remus feels a burst of molten panic in his belly. "No, no, he's fine don't look at me like that, Remus. But 'im and his friends were captured and taken to Malfoy Manner. They escaped, barely, and they're at Bill's now. Think they're alright, for the post part."

"Oh, thank God." Remus exhales and almost collapses against his desk.

_"If anything ever happens to me, Remus," Sirius's grey eyes are dark in his sunken face, "you have to watch over Harry. Promise me you'll protect him."_

_ "Of course I will." Remus touches Sirius's jaw. "You know I would have anyway. For James." _

_ "Good." Sirius exhales, almost as if in relief. "Thank you." _

_ "If anything happens to you…" Remus pulls them together, foreheads touching. "I will be very, very upset with you."_

_ Sirius grins. _

"And we've got some good news." Dora grins, eyes lighting up.

"Oh?" Remus raises his eyebrows. "And what's that?"

"Pettigrew is dead. Causality at the Manor."

Remus's throat goes dry, suddenly, and he can't swallow past the unexpected lump in his throat.

_I'm the last. _

The Marauders are gone. He is the last one standing, the only one left. Padfoot, Prongs…even Wormtail. All gone.

And perhaps Peter Pettigrew was only a Marauder in the way that he shared their memories, even a few of their scars. That the rat he became was the rat that used to tap the Willow's knothole, every full moon. But that was something. That was more than nothing, which was what Remus had now.

_What a terrible burden to bear. Being the last. _

"Is some thing wrong, dear?" Dora touches his cheek. "I thought you'd be happy to hear about Pettigrew."

She does not understand. She cannot understand. The only people who understand are dead now. The only three people who would know what Remus is feeling now are all dead, one after the other. Leaving him alone and with no one to turn to _again and again and again._

Remus had thought that he could not feel more alone after losing Sirius. But now, he was. He was the last Marauder, and no one would even understand that or pity him because no one but the Marauders truly knew their bond, what their friendship meant.

"I…it's just a bit of a surprise." Remus swallows. "I'm glad they're all okay."

"Yeah." Dora still looks slightly concerned. "Me, too."

He is tempted, for a moment, to explain to her the gravity of the situation. But he knows he can't. There aren't words for the gravity of the situation; no outsider could understand the sudden gaping emptiness in his chest.

And she can never know of Sirius. Of the face behind his eyelids, the laugh he hears on the edge of sleep.

"You deserve better than me." Remus whispers, almost absentmindedly, and he does not mean because he is a werewolf.

"Oh, hush." Dora rolls her eyes. "Come to bed. You've had a bit of a shock. You need some sleep."

Remus follows her almost numbly to their bedroom. With each step, it's like he's getting farther and farther away from everything he knew.

James has been dead for seventeen years. Sirius has been dead for two. Peter barely dead for hours. Remus wonders when it will be him. How long he will live with this knowledge that the Marauders have all fallen, all except for him.

Back in Hogwarts, before James was dead and Sirius was in Azkaban and then dead and before Peter had betrayed them all, James and Sirius had gone on and one about the Marauder Way. To them, there were things that were Distinctly the Marauder Way and things that were Distinctly Not the Marauder Way.

Curling into a ball and hoping to die when all seemed lost was Distinctly Not the Marauder Way, so Remus was determined to keep moving forward. One foot after the other, as long as it took.

**A/N**

**This one was really draining to write! The Marauders are one of my favorite parts of the HP series and I love them very dearly. **

**I'm also just a tiny bit in love with Remus Lupin but, I leave him to Sirius (unlike some people we could mention coughTonkscough). **

**Thank you very much for reading I hope you enjoyed! **


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